Deal with Eternity
by kandra
Summary: Loki loses himself to the void and the Master of Death offers him a deal. The result was unexpected for everyone involved.
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, Harry, what have you done?"

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Dumbledore's face. He was looking at him over his glasses, eyes so wise and disappointed. Harry didn't understand, was this real? His last memory was of an fast approaching green light and him embracing his destiny. Wasn't he meant to be dead? Because of the horcrux? Was he mistaken? Did he die in vain?

A baby's cry sounded in the distance, but he ignored it. Dumbledore's words still stinging his heart. A mild panic attack spreading through him.

"You foolish, foolish boy", said the Headmaster shaking his head, no longer looking at him but beyond the fog that seemed to surround them. Ever present and almost hungry.

He was tired. Maybe he didn't understand Dumbledore's final message and he had screwed up by dieing when he shouldn't have. But if it was wrong, it didn't matter. It was done. He was here, and he was going to finally join his parents. That was something he was looking up forward, deep down… past the weariness and the mild panic attack he was pushing to ignore.

"Where are we?", he asked, searching around, changing the subject.

It was nowhere Harry knew. It looked like King's Cross station without trains, if the station were ever to have a big black hole in the middle of the floor with ominous darkness swirling inside it.

He cringed at the sight of the void, his fear growing at the sight.

Harry felt misplaced. Like he was supposed to be here, but at the same time he shouldn't. It was not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, as he had felt the same thing every day of his life. Like he had long forgotten a precious memory, and it was kept just outside of his grasp. Yearning for something he didn't know about. Part of him empty, never complete.

So very much like that black hole in the middle of the train tracks.

It was the story of his life… and now, it seemed, the story of his death.

"Only you would do something like this", said Dumbledore with fond exasperation, standing up from the bench where they were sitting. A smile spread across the Headmaster's face, only for him to shapeshift into a beautiful woman, with long black hair and pale skin, dressed in a simple long black dress, An aura of otherworldliness and power surrounding her.

Death, supplied Harry's subconscious. She was Lady Death.

 _Be glad She is not pissed_.

"I am not pissed," confirmed Death, reading his mind, a sweet smile on Her lips. "It only amuses me, my child." Her hand touched his cheek, a cold numbness spreading from Her fingertips. Not uncomfortable, but it certainly didn't feel motherly like, only a mimicry of it. Her hand caressed his hair, showing out the _sowilo_ rune in his forehead, shaped as a lighting bolt scar. She leant in to kiss it, never losing the small smile.

Harry let her. Seeing her expression tied knots in his stomach. He didn't even know why.

 _She was not supposed to be here. To greet him._

Not now, at least. Not like this.

"You were so desperate to be normal, that you risked every universe for your obsession... Why am I not surprised, Harry?", She whispered. Quiet words never sounded this reproachful. Like a mother scolding her child, after a terrible mischief that could have gone horribly wrong, but didn't.

Thankfully.

"Not quite," She admonished. "You will just have to _exist_ with the consequences of your actions. Both of you," tone said as if punishment hasn't been doled out yet. "We will see," Death finished with tight lips.

Harry felt torn. Confused, not understanding what was happening. However a sense of relief invaded him, as well. It felt so alien, not of himself. But at least She was not mad.

He opened his mouth to ask what She meant, but the entity just shushed him, and no sound escaped his throat.

"This time around there is no choice. You can't move on, Harry. You already made your decision," an impassive glance sent his way. "Besides, I doubt you would like to fall through the void _again_ , little trickster."

Not allowing him to speak, Lady Death picked up the crying baby that Harry kept ignoring. She didn't even spare a second glance to the bundle. "Follow the pull, _Master_ ," Death mocked smiling. "You will find your answers at the end of it. Or perhaps more questions? _We shall see_."

* * *

Afterwards, everything was like a dream. Or a nightmare. He couldn't decide. He woke up... or maybe fell asleep. His memories were a bit jumbled and quite missing in parts. All that mattered was that the mighty Lord Voldermort was vanquished. Harry himself cast the killing curse at him, after realizing he had claimed the Elder Wand as the last of the Deathly Hallows and Death wouldn't let him lose. After all, she just called him Master during his vision and she seemed fond of him, however wrong that made him feel.

In the end, the Dark Lord fell for his illusions like most of his opponents, and defeating him was almost child's play. A bit boring, really.

The aftermath was a bit more difficult, as he had to explain to his friends how he didn't die and why did he know so much about Illusions, a subject not taught in Hogwarts. Harry chucked everything to being the Master of Death, even though he _knew_ that was not the way it worked. He just didn't want to make his life more difficult. It was already hard as it was.

The official story for the press was that Harry had received secret training from Dumbledore in the Illusionary arts, and that's how he fooled Voldemort about "dying".

Everyone seemed content with his lies. That is, everyone but Luna. She kept sending him these strange looks, as if she was trying to focus on something beyond him. Not quite figuring what was wrong but knowing that nothing was the same.

Given enough time, Harry didn't doubt that she would be the first to figure out the truth (or as much as the truth he himself knew at this point). Luna was keenly perceptive in the weirdest of senses.

It's not like him to flee, but he needed to get out of England as fast as possible.

Not even he knew what was happening anymore, all the tricks and the lies, all the knowledge that just kept bubbling up in his mind. He would damn himself if he exposed this mystery to Hermione of all. She would enter into a research spree, denying herself the rest they all deserved. The war was over. It was the time to bury the dead, mourn and rebuilt their lives. Not go looking for another adventure. Not now, when he only had vague inklings and phantom memories.

The meeting with Death had changed him. Instead of the gaping hole in his soul, that made him depressed all these years, there was now a _pull_. He planned to follow it, and get some answers. Or plenty of questions, as She said. At least it was something to do, and after just knowing that being Master of Death meant that he was now immortal, he felt that being involved to the Magical British community was not in his best interests. He didn't want to be dissected in one of the many rooms from the Department of Mysteries.

Harry was also a Master of Being in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time, so it was no wonder that when he was searching through New York city, a big wormhole opened in the sky and hundreds of aliens invaded the Earth.

Or maybe it was the right combination of circumstances, as this event worked itself to intensify the focus of the pull. Now Harry could pinpoint where exactly he needed to go, instead of roaming the streets with no real direction.

He had spent the last few months travelling and following his instincts. Contact with his friends back in Britain was maintained through muggle means, as he didn't want to be seen with an owl while he cruised through mundane cities. Also he was now invisible to all tracking spells and traces, something that he felt was very important as you never knew who was watching. Turns out that his father's invisibility cloak did more than turn you invisible, and he didn't even need to be wearing it. Death herself couldn't find him if he wished so.

Not that he bar Her from knowing where he was, as he felt She was the only one who could give him hints and tips as to what was happening. She sometimes appeared in his dreams, when he was remembering pieces of a life not of Harry. She rarely said anything, preferring to shadow him through these memories as if inside a pensive.

The not-Harry life was bittersweet. He had had a family. A stern father, a doting mother, and an annoying but kind brother. They loved him, but could not protect him from the mocking and harsh words others would throw at him. Not-Harry wasn't kin by blood, either. Which only served to earn them bonus points in Harry's book. He knew all about blood and bonds. His own aunt despised him, and would have murdered him if she could. Harry didn't have any memory of a loving family, but knew all too well about neglect and persecution. So, he cherished his memory-family, and if given the chance, would forgive them anything. If only to feel his brother's bear hugs, receive his mother's sound advice and see the twinkling eyes of his father after an innocent mischief.

He had lost them. He wasn't sure how, as he hated to go over the memory, but he could tell it was his own doing. The first and only time he consciously focused on this event, there was just endless despairing darkness. Harry recoiled from it, and never tried again.

Glancing up, he saw the Stark Tower in all its glory. It has been on the news as the pinnacle of clean sustainable energy, so it was hard to miss. And it seemed that it was his destination, as the pull pulsed and twisted and all but screamed for him to hurry. The proximity was affecting him, though he had no time to understand exactly why or how. He felt it in his thoughts and in his soul, washing away blocks and snapping together pieces of himself he didn't know existed.

When had he become so broken?

Sounds of explosions and battle cries surrounded him. He donned the Invisibility Cloak and was now impervious to all the violence that happened around. Harry knew that people were getting hurt and dying, he could feel it. Death waves expanding and souls departing, even from the aliens. However, he didn't move to defend or attack. As Master of Death, eons ago he decided not to overly involve himself on mortal matters.

 _Though he still did, sometimes. To amuse himself and kill boredom, if anything else._

Getting closer to the tower, Harry saw that he would need to climb to the top. Not sure that the elevators would still work, and not fancying himself getting trapped inside the metal boxes, Harry unshrinked his firebolt and took to the air.

It was exhilarating.

Dodging projectiles and aliens, trying not to get hit... It was a nice pace for a change. He almost felt like himself again, as if he could remember how that felt like. A shy smile appeared on his face, though no one could see it.

It was when the wormhole in the sky closed and all the aliens dropped dead, that Harry decided to take his quest more serious. He landed on the balcony at the top of the tower not a few moments after, storing his firebolt in his pocket. Curiously, he looked around, for what was calling him here.

It turned out not to be a what. But a who. A very damaged and defeated who, if being embedded into the ground gave any indication. The person's magic was very desperate, busy trying to heal all his internal injuries. It was making such a poor job of it, probably already spent from the battle. The degeneration was happening faster than the healing. Organs would start to shut down any time now.

He would lose him if he did nothing. And he couldn't lose him.

 _He is the missing piece_.

Approaching the figure, Harry removed his invisibility cloak, crouching besides the body. There were others in the vicinity, but he paid them no mind.

The mage on the floor was half unconscious, with his eyes half-closed. Probably focusing all he had on not dying.

If there was one thing he learned as a Master of Death, is that while he didn't have the power to resurrect people (his association was with Death, not Life), he could keep someone from crossing over. Sometimes that caused more trouble than it was worth, upsetting the balance, and coming back to screw him over... but he wasn't above cheating Death.

Besides, it was She who brought him here.

* * *

It was useless.

 _He_ was useless.

Nothing like having another of his plans fail spectacularly to teach him to be humble. The Hulk really did a number on him. Broken bones, internal injuries… He couldn't even move, lying pathetically in pain. His magic was going crazy, putting everything he knew about healing spells into his body. A good bit of it was only instincts; as he was no healer. Fear and desperation, spurred him into dipping into his hidden reserves. The ones he didn't want to use, because he knew it was the point of no return. Those energies didn't regenerate, and it would probably cripple him permanently.

His eyes half-closed in concentration.

He couldn't hear anything but the rush of blood beating through his eardrums, trying to catch his breath. The Avengers were the last of his troubles now. He was drowning, and there was not enough air. A pressure in his chest. Crushing. Weighting him.

He clawed up the rabbit hole based on will alone. Enduring. He needed to. He couldn't go down. Not again.

Since the Void, Loki felt lost. His stay with the Other wasn't exactly gentle. What with the torture and the games played with his mind. His sense of self and peace of mind were forever skewed. If he were sane, he would be worried about himself. About not being whole. About what it meant for his future.

As it was, he knew he was doomed anyway. He was already gone. Half mad with grief and tearing himself at the seams.

Abandoning yourself to the Void does that to you, he deduced with what little of logic he had left. The Nothing should have completely unmade him, not even allowing him to cross over to Death's realm. But, he still existed, so he guessed the process for liquefying his existence would have taken a few centuries or eons to complete. Like being slowly digested inside a stomach, all acid like and shredding him apart. It certainly felt as crude and damaging as that.

The Other rescued him from that fate.

And he was happy about that. Because if being awake and living was torture… being in the Nothing was worse. His brain completely shut down the memory, leaving impressions and shivers. He didn't care about unearthing the horrors, not even remembering. He planned never to experience something similar again.

He was scared of dying. Of ending in total Darkness, and realizing he never really left that terrible place, and everything was just a figment of his imagination. A desperate cry for salvation. No, this suffering was better than Nothing.

Loki coughed blood, trying not to suffocate with it.

Who cared anymore? Try as he might, he knew that he was still falling. His magic was not enough. He had lost. And it was such an effort to keep it running.

A raspy breath escaped his lips. Tears pooled in his eyes. It was futile.

Regrets?

Only Frigga. Even if she was not his own mother, he honoured her as if she were. He deserved it to himself to be honest in the end. Incomplete memories of happier times brushed to the front of his mind.

" _Everything will be alright, my son,"_ her smiling memory spoke with a sweet voice.

 _No mother, it will not. I'm... sorry._

He was grasping at loose ends, and they kept fading through his fingers. The effort was too much. There was no more magic. No more fuel to burn. Just empty. Like the Nothing. He tried to sigh, but blood just filled his lungs and dragged him down. Coughing just set all his nerves on fire. But the air was not enough. He was so heavy.

His mother's voice was calling him, a loving smile in her lips. Realizing it was time, he asked his magic to stop. And just gave up. He let go.

Again.

A part of him found petty pleasure in imagening Thor's reaction to finding him _gone_.

In his mind, Loki released Gungnir all over again, darkness rapidly swallowing him whole.

He fell again.

* * *

 _He kept falling for days, months, years... eons. Suspended in the air, or going up. Down. Loki didn't know. It felt like forever, and at the same time he knew time didn't exist in this vacuum. He thought that it would have been a quick death. A painless journey into not existing. How mistaken he was._

 _He had no senses here. No sense of direction, nor could he feel his own body. However his thoughts still raged. Incessantly and ever present. They were full of regrets, of longing. How he wished they would shut up, so he could cease to exist. In peace._

 _It was not to be._

 _Letting his grief take hold of him like that might not have been the greatest idea, looking in retrospect. He wanted to impress Odin so much, he acted rashly. He wanted to make him proud, show he could be as purposeful as Thor. He was a true Odinson, after all. No, not the Trickster, the Liesmith, the Silvertongue, the one who fought without honour. He was trustful. He was worthy._

 _It was no surprise his thoughts began to take a darker tone. Turned upon himself, he tormented himself with what ifs and regrets. A raving mad Loki was ready for it all to end, to find release in whatever form he could find. He even pleaded to Death to take him. To erase him. He didn't care._

 _In the Void, the_ Nothing _was absolute._

 _At some point in his unchanging eternity, Loki began to dream. Or was it hallucinate? It didn't matter, as it was an escape his mind was all very willing to take. Hungrily he hauled himself deeper and deeper into it, unwilling to let it go._

 _A young man appeared before him. He was dressed in midgardian clothing, though his aura was out of that realm. Ancient and deadly. It sucked the nothingness around him. His pale face had a fake smile, like he didn't feel joy anymore but was going through the motions, anyway. Upon discovering Loki's presence, he glanced at him with total apathy, as if he were but a bug in the overall weave of the universe. His dead green eyes looked through him, judging his worthiness. He nodded to himself, continuing his false cheer._

 _From the Nothing, this strange being pulled Something. A chair materialized in the middle of the darkness, and he slowly sat on it._

 _Suddenly, Loki found he had a body and he was sitting across the powerful entity._

" _I came to offer you a deal, Loki Not-Odinson," announced the man. His voice grave and whisper-like. "I could take you out of here."_

" _To let me die? To cease?" asked a guarded Loki, lest his hopes be for nothing. He was ready for death, oh, he was so much yearning and ready for it. This loneliness and prison and despair and longing and regret and knowing he must have deserved to be punished to be in this place, he wanted out. Anywhere. Anyway. Anyhow._

 _His thoughts were scattered and broken. Though having a body and grasping the chair with white knuckles gave his mind some stability. He started clearing his head. This was_ real _. It has got to be real. He could_ feel it, _his hands rubbing over the chair and his clothes and his face and hair, hands roaming everywhere There was pain, physical pain when he pinched his arms._

 _It grounded him._

" _I could. But no, this offer is for you to_ live _," answered the entity, a hint of pained amusement in his voice. His dead green eyes reflected the suffering Loki felt, like he had found a kindred spirit. "This universe is dead. Wiped out clean, like so many others before and so many others after," explained the man. "I am burdened to be a witness to the end of all, a companion to Death until the time where Nothing becomes All." He gestured all around them. "I found you picking up the pieces of what remains in this dimension."_

" _Everything is dead?" Loki couldn't believe it. He had difficulty grasping the notion. His thoughts organizing themselves more, but still scrambled all over the place._

" _No. If that were so, we wouldn't be having this conversation," the entity shaked his head. "There are infinite numbers of dimensions in the Multiverse. Which is why I believe Death will never cease. And so,_ I _will never cease. Universes keep popping up like rabbits," joked the man in a whisper, a tired smile gracing his face. "It's such a chore."_

 _There were other universes out there. Of course Loki knew about that. His mind providing memories of another time. He had been a scholar, and had always been fascinated with the Multiverse when he read about it in Asgard's library. Travelling through Yggdrasil's branches across the realms was one thing, but between universes? He could only hope he could one day be able to._

 _He closed his eyes to clear his thoughts. Everything was starting to focus. It felt less like a continuous ramble of never ending scathing words and memories, and more like a directed controlled flow. Like turning on the lights after being wandering an unknown place in total darkness. He rubbed his eyes, glad to have hands to move around. Anywhere was better than the Void, he concluded. He couldn't go back to the dark._

 _Loki opened his mouth to agree, but the man spoke before he could say anything. "Hear me out first before you say 'yes'. My name is Harry Potter, and I am the Master of Death," the entity introduced himself. "But I am tired of this existence. I never wanted to be immortal, to live forever. It's been too long without respite. Death has been created for this purpose and She may not feel it such a burden, but I was born a mortal human. It was not until Lady Death got it into Her head She wanted to be a Mother, that I came about." the immortal grimaced. "I don't blame Her, though. Given enough universes, you are willing to do everything and anything to stave off the boredom and loneliness. I understand her need to make Herself a family." Harry shaked his head. "What I am offering, however, is for you to take my place. You get to be Master of Death, and I get to cease."_

" _You want to be here? In the Void?" Loki couldn't understand. What he feared the most is Nothingness, and continued existence in the manner he had been being, which has been a long time, if his universe not longer existed. It was the worst not-existence unceasing he could imagine._

 _He wouldn't ever wish it on his worst enemy._

" _We wouldn't just be switching places, if that's what you are wondering about," said Harry with more energy than he had showed previously, his eyes beginning to glint alight. It was the first time he had an idea like this, and he was eager to move forward to experiment with it. "We are lucky in that we are in my original universe. I would send you back in time… though, since here is outside time, it would be more accurate to say I would send you to_ a _particular time. You would be taking over my life. From my birth, to the event that gave me the Master of Death title. Your soul would be mine, and it would live my life as if it were your own. You would essentially be me. That is the way I will escape Death's claim," he proclaimed. "If everything goes right, I will cease to exist when you become Master of Death, as there can only be one in all the Multiverse. My soul would never have existed in the first place."_

 _Loki wasn't sure what kind of powers the title of Master of Death granted, but dominion over the souls didn't sound so farfetched. He worried for a moment that in another creation, he would grow so weary as to be desperate to offer the same to another Loki-like being. To escape the Void, only to fall into another wretched existence again._

" _Not all souls are created equal, Loki Not-Odinson," the Master of Death read his mind. "Asgardians have more sturdy souls than mortals, so I wouldn't worry too much about that," Harry grinned, eyes reflecting new energy in them. "And no, I am not quite sure I can get away with this, but I am willing to try."_


	2. Chapter 2

_I am… Loki._

Yes, that sounded about right.

 _I am Loki... of Asgard?_

Hmmm…

"Didn't work out the way we expected, but… can't say _I_ am sorry," the voice carried over to _his_ consciousness, interrupting the forming thought and Loki opened his awareness to the reality around him.

Blinking his eyes and looking around, he decided he should have left them closed, things being as they were. This was a _very_ familiar place, however he would like to not say so.

 _Was it all a dream? Am I in the Void?_ , panic raised in him, even though a part of him _knew_ it was not where he was.

Harry was sitting across him, in the same chair he used so very long ago… or will be, in the future. Or not-future? Ugh! The Master of Death had a look of concentration on his face, eyes looking beyond Loki at the moment, into the Void. Given the dire situation they were in, Loki could not help but feel envious of the calm aura Harry exuded. The trickster god didn't feel like himself and his mind was still jumbled out. He massaged his temples as a way to bring more clarity to everything that was happening around him.

He had four sets of memories in his head. He had lives as Harry Potter and lives as Loki Odinson. Which made sorting out his identity a tad bit complicated. He believed himself to be Loki, just because those memories felt more raw and had an intensity to them that the Harry Potter ones lacked. But his existence as Loki was branched out. There was a common path up till his fall… and then, they diverged. One ended in the Void and made a deal with the Master of Death. The other escaped the Void, only to make another deal with Thanos.

Both felt so authentic. And real.

He also had the memory of the merged Harry-Loki life, which was not bad, as it was a very short one and ended up till a moment ago, when both decided to separate their souls. But then again, he also had the memories of the Master of Death.

He shuddered.

If Loki thought he had it rough, it only paled before the Master of Death existence. It went for eons. Lonely and suffering. And in the end, uncaring. Wishing for a death that would never touch him.

Immortality has been Harry's Void.

"I guess it worked out well enough," said Loki, after capturing all the thoughts in his head running amok. He could differentiate more of himself moment by moment, something that Harry was working on. But this was not going to be easy. "Our souls are still joined, though," concluded the scholar, after assessing more of his current state of being.

It was good to have the Master of Death's knowledge about souls.

A serene smile appeared in the other's face, focusing on him for just an instant before going back to concentrate on his task.

"I am doing my best, but I already know it won't be enough," confessed Harry sheepishly. "Because I messed up, we'll always be bonded. Just trying to tip the scales a little," he explained. "More of Harry on this side," he pointed to himself, "more of Loki on that side," pointing to Loki. "Like Death said, _we shall see_. I am optimistic though."

"Yes," confirmed Loki, "we are having our first conversation as separate identities. The memory generation has also stopped being on both sides. That is promising."

However, if he will it well enough, Loki could feel himself experiencing and merging again with Harry, stretching infinitely in this place and sorting, ordering, cataloging, moving, coloring and graying pieces of themselves at an incredible pace.

"Try not to lose it, you are not making my job any easier," admonished the Master of Death, gently turning him away. "We'll have _plenty of time_ to play with the bond later. Focus on getting _your_ body back."

And with that, Loki felt the push towards consciousness.

* * *

Pathetic is not the right word, but it keeps ringing through his mind. _Enough_ , he tells himself, stealing a quick glance at the bed. If his brother were ever to find out about this treacherous thoughts, even in the privacy of his mind, Thor just knew he would lose Loki forever.

There would be no chance of redeeming their relationship. Not at all.

Another glance at the bed and he cannot help but think that Loki looked _so weak_ and _small_ , his breathing shallow and skin pale. Nothing like the powerful warrior he knew him could be.

When they got to the tower after the fight, Thor never imagined to find his brother crumbled on the floor, unmoving. Loki was a survivor. He wouldn't die. Not from a Midgardian force. They were Asgardian princes. Gods to them.

The sight hit him like a Hulk's punch, taking the air out of him.

The unknown figure kneeling by his brother was also a surprise. The Avengers threatened and some even attacked the boy, who ignored them all. A force field shielded both from everything they threw. Thor wasn't sure who did what, as his eyes stayed with his brother while a rising panic started to take hold. They had already mourned Loki in Asgard. Saying goodbye once was terribly enough, would he have to do it again? What was he to say to Freya? Mother was so hopeful…

He was about to reach out for Loki, Mjolnir in hand, when the boy bent down and _kissed_ his brother.

The reaction was immediate. A powerful energy exploded and pushed them against the wall. He couldn't breathe. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt ancient and _wrong_. Unnatural. Thor remembered recoiling against it, the feeling of _taint_ washing through him, through them all.

He shakes his head to remove the memory from the forefront of his mind. Everything fast forwarded after that. The boy collapsed on top of Loki, and the shield disappeared without a trace. Both were brought unconscious aboard the Helicarrier.

The unknown boy was locked in a cell. He was completely healthy, only unconscious. Not much to do but wait for him to wake up and interrogate. Naturally, he was kept as far away from Loki as they could. He still had remnants of that strange energy spiking around him, frying all electronic devices attempting to analyze it. Dr. Banner and Stark were working overtime trying to crack the puzzle.

On the other hand, Loki was secured in a cage similar to the one they used before, except this time it housed a bed and medical equipment, monitoring his vital signs. There was not much Midgardian medicine could do, besides praising his resilience. Loki should be dead by all accounts. His internal organs were _mush_ , Stark's words, not him. Even with all the technology and drugs, Loki's condition was not improving. But he was not dying. Yet, anyway.

It was just a matter of time for Dr. Selvig to figure out how to calibrate the Tesseract and get both of them back home and into Eir's care, an expert healer. She would have no issues restoring Loki back to health, he knew by experience.

But it was a matter of time, and Thor didn't know if _time_ was on his side.

Coming full circle with his thoughts, the god of Thunder caressed his brother's face, bringing Loki's hand to his forehead and giving a silent encouragement.

"Be strong," he murmured, closing his eyes.

Please, do not die. Not again.

"I didn't know you cared, _brother of mine_ "

Sharply opening his eyes, Thor didn't recognize the voice, before the strange boy appeared out of thin air.

His hand found Mjolnir.

* * *

 _This place is so bright_ , was Harr…, no, Loki's first thought coming into consciousness. The other was watching, the Asgardian could feel it, but he was busier working on their tangled mess more than anything. Harry was doing a very fine job of putting things back into place. Handling souls was a delicate business, Master of Death or not, so he refused to rush the job.

It was easy to slip his captors, leaving an illusion behind. One of the advantages of having meshed themselves together, was learning a bit of each other's magic. Though Loki doubted he could ever wield the powers of Death, he might retain a sensitivity to it. They'll just have to see.

It was no issue roaming through the halls of the Helicarrier, stealthing thru the corredors in a mix of illusions and Notice-Me-Not charms.

The mind fog that had accompanied them since last meeting Death was lifted the moment their bodies kissed. It was incredible. Everything was so clear, so evident after that. Initially, they thought it was to stop death taking over, as they had so many questions for this person… They didn't realize that touching Loki's original body would resonate with their souls to the point where they could realize they were _two_ , merged together. Quickly, they consumed the sliver of Loki's soul left in the body and set to repair themselves. The memories rushed free and instantly.

Now they were both sharing a body, but not for long. Loki was following the pull, knowing exactly where his body could be found.

When he opened the cell door, the sight that greeted them was a bit familiar.

 _I thought you dropped the cage?_ roused Harry, remembering himself pushing the button, knowing full well Thor would survive.

 _They must have had a backup plan_ , shrugged the Asgardian. _Smart, not bad._ Walking silently inside, they noticed the new arrangements and the visitor sitting by the bed. _I'm touched_ , he jested.

Loki took a few seconds to assess the situation. He still hasn't processed how he really felt about his… not-family.

"Be strong," murmured Thor, anguish present in his voice. The God of Thunder was having a hard time, it seemed. After the battle between them, Loki didn't know what to expect from Thor. He appreciated his worry, it was endearing.

"I didn't know you cared, _brother of mine,_ " mocked Loki, dropping his spells. Seeing Thor's evident concern, made him warm inside, but he still wouldn't relinquish so easily.

He was nothing if not obstinate.

Even though a crystal wall still separated them, Thor stood up wielding Mjolnir, assuming a defensive position in front of the bed. Several emotions flashed through his face, confusion, fear, relief... finally setting on rage.

"Is this another one of your games, Loki? No more!" Thor yelled, lightning streaking across the hammer. "It's the last time I fall for one of your illusions."

The change was immediate. He made for an imposing figure; eyes flashing in his fury, knuckles going white.

Sensing the threat, Harry pushed through to the front, putting his progress on hold. Both shared control just fine, as they had been one up until a few hours ago. Sighing, they shook his head, a sad smile spreading on their face. It was never going to be easy between the siblings, right?

 _He is not my brother_ , complained a part of him.

 _You may try to lie to yourself, Loki. But you cannot fool me_ , answered Harry. _We long for Thor. His affection is the shiny piece that's missing in our life. We thought of him during the torture we endured with the Chitauri._

Managing their internal turmoil, they sighed, oh boy. This is so confusing. The pieces were still too strongly connected, as Harry knew for a fact he had never been Thanos' prisoner.

Lady Death was right, it was a mess. A fun one, mind you. Harry couldn't remember the last time he felt so _alive_. His magic was singing out of excitement, and he was having issues keeping it wrapped around himself and not short circuiting the whole airship.

"That came out wrong, and for that I'm sorry," the wizard apologized, hands raised trying to placate the god of Thunder. "I can assure you this is no game…" to Loki, at least. Harry was having so much fun right now. "I can explain everything later, but we are on borrowed time. Your brother is dying, you know."

There was that look again, _fear_. Like a balloon, Thor's anger quickly deflated, leaving a very unsure Asgardian behind. His burst of anger brought a false relief, and now Thor was taking his words back; wishing it were one of Loki's pranks.

All considered, he wouldn't mind, he swears.

"They cannot do anything for him," the Asgardian explained tiredly, glancing back at Loki's prone figure.

Harry assented. They thought so. With a wave of his hand, the gate opened, allowing them to set foot inside the crystal cage.

"He needs to be saved, but I am no healer." Far from it, they both were more adept at killing. "Loki needs to return to Asgard," they affirmed before stepping into the glass cage.

"The Tesseract will be ready within the week and with it we can go home," offered the Asgardian with a guarded expression and following every movement they made. They were glad he was choosing to continue the conversation instead of demanding answers.

Thor was out of ideas. He didn't know this mage; he could be an ally of Loki. Here to take him away. But if it gave him a chance at surviving, how could he say no? The Midgardian healers didn't have high hopes of Loki surviving even one more day, and have requested multiple times for him to say his farewells while he could. The God of Thunder refused to even entertain the thought.

Loki figured that Heimdall had already alerted Odin and Freya about the situation. No visitors from Asgard meant the Rainbow Bridge was still broken. Harry would have to take direct action, then. He approached the bed in slow motion, stepping beside Thor to look at the figure.

Suddenly, the door to the chamber opened, and the rest of the Avengers spilled into the room, all weapons ready.

"Halt!" commanded Fury. "We will need you to step away from the bed and come to answer some questions."

Raising his hands in the air, Harry turned.

"I just want to help," answered the wizard, stepping back and bumping into the bed, an innocent grin on his face. "I promise we'll be back for the Tesseract."

Before anyone could do anything, Harry reached out to touch Thor's arm and Loki's hand, side along apparating them through the realms toward Asgard.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ugh, that was not fun"

They were on four legs, dry heaving onto the ground. Harry could barely sustain his own weight, and the world was spinning. Round and around. There was a great pounding on their temples and for moments, they could only hear the rush of blood coursing through their body.

"Agreed," replied Thor, coughing on the floor, trying to catch his breath and recovering much faster than Harry.

They had made it, but apparating to another planet was not agreeing with Harry's Midgardian underdeveloped body, and for a moment they feared it might have pushed things a little too far. His powers as Master of Death were not yet fully matured at the moment and it certainly showed in his lessened resiliency.

Harry could have used _shadow walk_ , his preferred method of transportation, but due to Loki's fragile health, transversing Lady Death's realm while keeping Death from getting Her claws on his body, might not be the best idea after all.

Finally they got to sit on the floor, and a quick look around confirmed they were in Asgard. To apparate, Harry latched onto the more prominent memory of the Palace he could find on short notice. Coincidentally, that was the Library. Loki spent an enormous amount of time between these shelves consuming everything his hands could get, and it was an attestment of their attachment to that place that it felt even more welcoming than Loki's own quarters.

It was a big room, very bright and warm. For some reason, it smelled of fresh flowers with a mix of musk. A very pleasant place, thought Harry, trying to stabilize his senses.

"At least we haven't splinched ourselves. I'm sorry. I was in a hurry," admitted the wizard. "Next time I'll be more careful," he promised a big loopy smile on his face. They were just picturing Fury's expression after they left. Loki smiled wider. He was made a fool.

After a big breath, Thor nodded once. He couldn't understand how this boy had so much power to bring them to Asgard. Even if it might have killed them in the process, it was quite clear they were home. Who was he?

"Let's not waste too much time, I fear the trip might have been too rough for your brother."

That shut up Thor's questions, and sprang him to action. He stood up and picked up Loki's sprawled body from the floor. They tried to get their jelly legs to respond and follow him, but it was impossible.

"Uh. I might need a minute or two," they finally confessed. "Could you please go ahead and send someone to catch up?"

Thor seemed torn, unsure whether to move forward or try to keep an eye on them.

An illusion of Loki appeared next to Thor. "I'm dying you fool!," shouted the apparition, which urged the asgardian to move forward and forget about the wizard.

Thor paled and sprang from the room as if Death Herself was running behind him. On the way, he asked the guards to let his parents know they were home and to detain the visitor in the Library. He had no doubt his Mother would immediately join them in the Healing Ward and would like explanations.

The healers immediately took care of Loki, analyzing his condition and running all sorts of tests. He could tell by the pale faces that timing was crucial and things were looking critical. Thor resigned to stay on the sidelines, waiting for the verdict that could potentially skew his world all over again. He was fighting the guilt of remembering his brother preferred oblivion than forgiveness.

Loki has always been a proud man.

* * *

 _Was that really necessary?,_ admonished Harry, taking a deep breath and finally standing up, with the support of a chair. They donned the invisibility cloak and took a few timid steps, before a couple of guards appeared in the library, searching frantically for someone.

Loki did the equivalent of a mental shrug, _we required him to leave us alone. It worked._

 _We won't be able to evade the questions forever, you know._

Stealthily they approached a bookshelf, while the asgardians ran along the corridors asking them to show themselves.

 _I know,_ sighed the trickster. _But, give me some time before I have to face… them._

A few minutes went by before they felt strong enough to continue. The guards had given up, and decided to search other areas of the palace.

 _They might find out there is no soul,_ warned Loki. _It's called a Soul Forge for a reason, after all._

Harry nodded, pushing Loki to the forefront of their mind and going back to his job of separating them. When they got to the Healing Ward, a ritual circle had been drawn onto the floor and some healers were murmuring chants of Life and Health while others were operating the device, scanning for damage. Watching Thor from the edge of his vision, Loki could see he was relaxing due to the magic permeating the room, a serene expression replacing his anguish.

Harry, on the other hand, felt a bit like throwing up. Again. The air was suffocating and sterile. Due to his opposing nature, it just felt so _wrong_ to him. He burrowed into their mind to no avail. Even Loki tried to shield him from the influence, despite feeling its effects in a lesser form.

 _I cannot intervene... yet,_ observed Harry. It would be wild; if he were to also apply Death's magic to Loki's body right now, at the very least an explosion was guaranteed. And while, as a Master of Death, he could construct a new body, there was no guessing how much time it would take him to amass the energy required to do so. At the moment he was having issues with the most basics of Death's powers, he couldn't even separate the majority of their souls yet.

Besides, there is nothing like the original. He was pro-vintage that way.

With a shout, Harry's attention was drawn to a woman arriving to the scene. _Mother_. Freya brought her hands to her mouth and attempted to get near Loki, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Thor stopped her, as the ritual was best left undisturbed.

They felt a pang of guilt. It was never their intention to bring such torment to this woman, who was now shyly sobbing onto Thor's shoulder. Both in relief at seeing Loki alive, and fear of having to lose him again so soon.

Harry envied Loki. He had a loving family who awaited his return eagerly. Weaknesses. People who cared for him to the point of feeling terror at the possibility of him dying. Strong emotional attachments that they loathed and wanted to sever at all costs. They felt so fortunate for having a home. Traitors who took him from his real family. Something worthy of defending from the Nothing.

 _That was… confusing,_ both admitted. Several points of view melded together and they couldn't tell them apart. What was real, what was theirs. In a way, they all were, conflicting and all. _I almost fear how we will react to seeing Odin_.

"Your Father is on his way," Freya announced.

Because there was hate when he thought of their Father. There was cold fury and righteousness. The wanted to defy and destroy everything he held dear. A wounded pride and the determination to show their true worth. The longing for a fulfilling relationship and the regret for all the missed opportunities. A small chance of having acceptance and belonging. The hurt and the pain of being lied to and the charade to Heir to the Throne.

While thinking of Thor and Freya evoked mild undertones of bitterness and spite, Odin brought undiluted rage. It sparked the worst in them, and Harry wasn't sure how they would deal. The wrong words… and they could go into a masacre spree, caring for nothing until it was too late for regret. It was a terrible position for the Master of Death.

Loki agreed, it would be like facing the Dursleys.

It's too soon.

Fearing the worst, they decided to flee the scene.

* * *

Turning around in the bed, Loki slowly opened his eyes. His whole body ached, and the light dug bright claws in his head. It felt like the mother of migraines coming up. A whimper escaped his lips.

"I see you are awake," whispered a voice he knew so well. Up until… some hours? Days? Some time ago, it was a voice he also considered his own.

 _Harry?_ , Loki reached in their mind, having shut down his eyes and made himself small. As if to disappear from the world. He was having trouble remembering what happened.

 _Take it slow and easy, we are in prison_ , sighed the midgardian. _It has been a week at most, I confess I also lost track of time_ , as he only woke up a few days ago. _You were brought down here yesterday, and I heard the soldiers talking._

"What…?", rasped Loki, his throat hoarse and incapable of ending his question. But Harry knew what he meant to ask.

 _What happened?_

It was all coming to pieces in slow motion, and Harry helped the memory along.

After fleeing the Healing Ward, they evaded capture for a few days, Harry working relently in ordering the chaos they were in. Meanwhile Loki operated in survival mode: he made sure they ate, they slept, they... functioned. They mostly kept to themselves as to save energy and remain undetected. Loki didn't want to clash with anyone that would distract Harry's delicate work. While they worked as a very coordinated individual, as the hours passed and they untangled even more, Loki itched to be _himself._

The healers were able to restore Loki's body, but they did detect an anomaly, and were unsure how to proceed. They were researching ancient records to see if there has been another similar case of this happening (which they had, go figure). Freya spend a lot of time in the room with Loki, just holding his hand and whispering nonsense (from reading her lips it seemed like she was singing a lullaby?). Thor dropped by once a day, stared forlongling at his brother for a few minutes and then he would leave. Odin… well, they didn't stay to see him, the mere indication of him, they would flee the scene.

It took them about three days to get enough of themselves separated, that Harry deemed it done. Like he said, they messed up and that meant they would never be completely apart now. But at least they each had their own personality back, their thoughts were their own and the memories weren't so scrambled together. Loki could still access Harry's memories if he really, really concentrated and tried, but they felt alien and distant from him now. They even compared tastes and were satisfied when Harry said he adored to cook and Loki absolutely detested such a menial task.

The tricky part was getting back Loki's soul inside Loki's body without anyone the wiser.

 _I have to kiss you, you see…_ , he remembered Harry smiling at him. _That's the easiest gateway we can use._

Loki didn't remember blushing, as he had no body, but he might as well have. A strong feeling of embarrassment started emanating of him when Harry sent mental pictures of what kind of kiss this would exactly be. It turns out that returning a soul through the mouth is a… more active process than taking it out. It didn't hurt that Harry started adding other _undertones_ to the image while enjoying Loki's discomfort.

So sue Harry if he was now more Trickster than before. He was having too much fun.

Preparing themselves for the work ahead (Harry) and steeling their resolves (Loki), they set to work.

It turned out that Loki's body was guarded and a silent alarm triggered as soon as they touched him.

Freya.

Seems like they were waiting to capture the strange visitor and savior as soon as they showed up.

Sadly, with the separating process started, they couldn't stop or it would be high risk to end up in an even worse position than where they started. Harry decided to ignore the alarm and set to work as fast as he methodically could.

He was pretty confident that he could deal with whatever situation they would find themselves after.

"I passed out," recalled Harry a bit ashamed. He was still rediscovering his limits at this time.

When Harry woke up, he was in prison, with magic dampener bracelets and collar to match. Runes glowed in the cell outside, but Loki was nowhere in sight. He sensed he was still unconscious. What they had done was quite an ordeal for the body and soul, after all. It was no surprise Loki was still out cold.

He resolved to wait and see. Mortals are overly curious and a puzzle like this? They will want to know the game. Harry was in no rush.

So Harry waited, meditated, dreamed with Death and behaved like an exemplary guest. No one talked to him during that time, and Harry didn't ask any questions. A tranquil and knowing smile was the only reaction he gave to anyone who passed him by.

The trickster god was brought in a few days later and deposited in the cell next door. He was still out, but it wouldn't take too long, he could sense. Harry frowned mentally at Odin, for bringing his unwell son to the dungeon, but he decided to not overly dwell on it.

Lest he take some drastic measures.


End file.
